


how the sky falls around us

by skai_heda



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Architect Clarke Griffin, Espionage, F/M, Light Angst, Science Fiction, Violence, cage wallace might not be a terrible person???, kind of a spy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: Bellamy and Raven's job is difficult, as can be expected of a job that requires them to steal information via the dreams of their targets. It's difficult, but it's straightforward.At least, until Clarke Griffin comes into the picture.Inception AU
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Lexa, Bellamy Blake & Raven Reyes, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 25





	how the sky falls around us

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of the story please pretend there are nonstop flights from prague to los angeles okay THANKs

* * *

**los angeles**

* * *

"Mr. Wallace," Raven says in her sweetest voice. "Our priority is your safety, of course. Your mind is utterly and completely exposed to people who are looking to pry important information from your subconscious."

Behind her, Bellamy adjusts his tie, wondering vaguely when the kick will come in, and they'll wake up. 

See, the kick works a little bit like this; it'll start with the music. The faint initial notes of Chopin's Raindrop Prelude, signaling that it's time, warning him. And inevitably, up in the real world, Monty will kick his chair, Jasper will kick Raven's, and they'll wake. 

He just hopes the kick doesn't come before the end of the extraction, the theft of information from Dante Wallace's mind.

"And how do I know that you aren't trying to pry it for yourself, my dear?" Dante asks softly, and Bellamy fights to keep his face impassive. The gilded Greek columns of Wallace's dream display minuscule cracks at the bases, indicating the instability of Bellamy's architecture.

 _Stop,_ he tries to tell himself. _Calm down._

The more nervous and emotional he gets, the more unstable the dream becomes, the more the projections of his subconscious begin to display problematic behavior. As the Architect of the team, it's a dangerous situation; he's the one who designed the dream to resemble Dante Wallace's immaculate mansion, and Bellamy's subconscious, along with Wallace's, is what fills it. His mind is hardly stable enough to begin with, but it's not like anyone else is aware of that.

"Mr. Wallace," Raven says softly. "We are not real, either of us." She indicated Bellamy with a jerk of her chin. "We're your subconscious. And do you believe that your subconscious would turn against you?"

"Man's greatest enemy is himself," Wallace replies, pouring himself another glass of wine. "But I like to consider myself an exception to that rule. So what must I do?"

"Your mind is very greatly organized, I see," Raven says admiringly, glancing around at the way Bellamy designed the dream. Oh, Bellamy isn't going to let that go any time soon. "But the big thing is your largest secret."

Wallace sips his drink, watching her warily.

"Your subconscious inevitably takes your greatest secret and locks it away somewhere. It's automatic. Impulsive," Bellamy says, cutting in. "And that's a flashing red light for anyone looking to find out that secret, sir. Now, we can't stop that, but we can make it more guarded. But in order to do that we have to find that compartment. We can't help you unless we know what the problem is."

Wallace doesn't want to tell, that's for sure. But as soon as his throat bobs, Bellamy sees a loose floor tile rise slightly in the corner of his eye, and tries his best not to glance at it full on. Raven immediately understands the situation, and she leans forward with a blinding smile. "Although, you don't have to make a decision immediately. I suggest you take a walk and think about it."

"I think that's best," Wallace says softly, getting to his feet. "I'll be seeing you two soon, I expect."

With his posse of bodyguards, Wallace exits the room.

"I'm guessing you found it," Raven says, sidling up to Bellamy.

"Wasn't too hard," Bellamy mutters, earning him a pinch on the hand from her. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy catches a flash of dark hair and pale skin, and both he and Raven whip around in unison.

"Why is she here?" Raven asks softly, her hand closing tightly around Bellamy's wrist.

"I don't know," he mutters. 

Octavia Blake leans against a railing, wearing an electric-blue dress and a dangerously thoughtful smile.

"This is the fourth time, Bellamy," Raven says sharply. "She'll blow it again."

"She won't," he implores. "I'll keep her under control."

"She's literally a manifestation of your worst emotions," Raven says sharply. "What the fuck are you thinking? We have to hurry."

Octavia locks eyes with her, and time seems to stop.

"Shit," he mumbles. "Oh, _shit."_

"Now we _really_ have to hurry," Raven says, her voice laced with barely suppressed irritation. Bellamy goes over to the loose floor tile and pushes it out of the way, revealing a keypad.

"Four numbers," Raven mutters beside him. "Look around. Look for patterns."

"How many glasses of wine did Wallace have?" he asks.

"Two."

He presses the 2.

"How many men were with him?" Bellamy continues.

"Eight."

8.

"How many olives did he eat?"

Raven sighs. "How is that relevant?"

_"Raven."_

"He ate five."

5.

Bellamy tries to think of something else, some other small detail.

He remembers Wallace tapping his finger against the table, over and over, the same way every time. A taptaptap, taptaptap, a—

3.

_2853._

The keypad beeps, flashes green, and slides out of the way, revealing a small, grey compartment below it, and a single folder labeled _Mount Weather._ He's almost got his hand on it, but a familiar voice makes him stop.

"Put it down, Bell."

His vision is overloaded with electric blue, her dress, her eyes, the tiles, Raven's heels. 

"Mind controlling your subconscious a little?" Raven murmurs. 

"It's too late for that," Octavia says gently, and Dante Wallace appears behind her, his tie the same color as her dress. "I sold you out."

Beside him, Bellamy hears Raven exhale softly. 

"I was right to not trust you," Wallace murmurs. "And I was going to do something about it. Too bad your mind has betrayed you, my dear Mr. Blake."

"I tell you to stay out of it every time, O," he says softly, ignoring Wallace, as if he's truly speaking to his sister and not a piece of his subconscious. "And you never listen to me."

"That's because _you_ didn't listen to _me,"_ Octavia spits, her calm, vaguely child-like demeanor fading instantaneously. In his head, the words _Mount_ _Weather_ flash in his mind. "You left me when I needed you. You do it every single time."

"Okay, this is enough," Raven starts, reaching for the file, but one of Wallace's men yank her backwards, shoving her down on her knees. Octavia withdraws a gun from seemingly nowhere, and points it at Raven's head.

"You know that won't do anything," Bellamy reasons in his softest voice. "Killing her will just wake her up."

"I know," Octavia whispers. "But I can still hurt her."

Without warning, she shoots Raven in one knee, and then in the shoulder. The guttural scream that tears out of Raven's mouth makes Bellamy's skin prickle, and he reaches for his own gun, ready to shoot her in the head, because they have to wake up—

Bellamy swallows. There's still time.

"Mr. Wallace," he says softly. "This woman is merely a part of your subconscious—a representation of your apprehension. My main priority is to protect you, sir."

"But you know her," Wallace counters, stepping over the pool of Raven's blood. 

"But then again, I am a part of your subconscious as well," he reiterates. "It is possible that we know each other. It is also possible we don't. But you cannot fight me, or her, or any of us. You can't defeat yourself."

"I have nothing to say," Wallace says. "I have no secret to spill."

Bellamy lunges at him then, sending him crashing into the floor. All the men converge on them, but then Bellamy puts his gun against Wallace's head, making them stop abruptly.

"I'll only ask once," Bellamy murmurs. "What—is—Mount Weather?"

Wallace chuckles softly. "Something bigger than either of us will ever be."

In the distance, the beginning of the Raindrop Prelude begins to play, and it's too late.

* * *

Falling.

His eyes open a second before he hits the water, and his next sensation is the icy liquid embracing him, pulling him down. He struggles helplessly in that old bathtub that's half his size before he grabs the slippery edges and emerges, sopping wet and shaking.

Beside him, Raven is already out of her bathtub, clutching her leg and looking furious. Monty and Jasper are there, too, arms crossed. 

"Did you get it?" Jasper asks.

"We _failed,"_ Raven snarls.

"We got something," Bellamy reasons. "Mount Weather."

"It could literally be anything!" she counters.

"But we know it's something, or else it wouldn't be plastered on the front of Wallace's greatest secret!"

They glance at the sleeping form of Dante Wallace, his gnarled hands gripping the sides of his chair.

"What now?" Monty asks softly. 

"We can't go back in," Raven mutters. "He knows what we want to know. We've gotta get him off the PASIV."

Bellamy glances at the device keeping him stuck in the dream, and the device that allowed them to enter it. "We can't kick him."

"So what? We send someone back in and kill him? You do realize we're in a terrible situation, right?" Monty says, displaying a rare instance of his own annoyance.

There's a loud click and thud in the lower levels of the warehouse they're in, and everyone reaches for their guns. The walls begin to tremble, and Raven whirls around. "We're in a dream, aren't we?"

"A dream within a dream?" Jasper asks. "Bellamy, did you do this?"

"Bellamy and I knew the risks of the extraction," Monty cuts in, speaking for him. "So we tried to make this as safe as possible. But it looks like Bellamy's dream is collapsing."

"You son of a bitch, Bellamy," Raven says tiredly. 

"Well, I guess we're about to be kicked," Monty sighs, and sure enough, the warehouse tips on its side, and Bellamy is—

* * *

Falling again.

Except this time, his chair isn't tipped into a bathtub, but rather onto the floor itself. Above him stands a woman, whose face is getting closer and closer.

"Congratulations," the woman says in a low, clear voice. "You failed."

He's pulled up roughly by the shoulders to face the woman, who he decides is unfairly beautiful. She has dark green eyes and silky brown hair that falls in a curtain around their faces, and Bellamy almost employs his classic grin on her. 

But the sharpness of her glare cuts through that thought as she regards him critically. "Guessing you're Bellamy Blake."

"That would be me," he mutters.

"Good. I'm Lexa."

She leans away and extends a hand to him, going from intimidating to businesslike in half a second. "As I was saying, you failed the test."

"What test?" Raven asks weakly from where she lies.

"I needed to know if your team was ready," Lexa says thoughtfully. "But it seems you can't perform a basic extraction—"

"Listen here—" Bellamy snaps, trying to sit up, but she pushes him back down with alarming force.

"Do you know who I am, Bellamy?" Lexa asks softly. 

"Probably some ARK executive who's come to tell me that we're about to get our asses beat for _insubordination_ ," Bellamy murmurs.

"I don't give a shit about your stupid dream espionage company," Lexa says, leaning away from him. "Although, I am the reason you were to pursue the Wallace mission in the first place. It was Lincoln Davis who gave you the mission details, right?"

Bellamy swallows as he remembers a body lying in the snow, blood trickling from a bullet hole squarely in the middle of Lincoln's forehead. 

"Yes," Raven answers for him. 

Lexa glances from her to Bellamy. "I take it he's gone."

Bellamy nods mutely.

She sighs. "Thousands of lives are at stake here." Lexa stands then, extending a hand to Bellamy. "I know you haven't completed the latest extraction, but I'm afraid I'm out of other options. And besides—I know your team's track record. You guys are extremely skilled ARK agents. So I suppose I'll have to take a leap of faith with this one."

"What's in it for us?" Bellamy asks.

"By now, your whole team has made every Most Wanted list all over the globe. Your faces are plastered on every screen in Interpol Headquarters in Lyon. ARK doesn't mess around with consequences, I see."

Bellamy takes her hand, glancing at the rest of the team as he does so, noting their worried faces. _They_ still have families, people to go back to.

"What do you need?" he asks softly.

"At first I need to know if it can be done," Lexa says. 

"What is it?" Raven pushes.

Lexa lets go of Bellamy, straightening her black blazer. Her eyes are like pine needles, and just as sharp. "Inception."

* * *

"It's impossible," Raven whispers, holding Bellamy's hands within her own. "To plant an idea in another person's mind—they'll recognize the problem immediately. They'll reject the idea immediately. Bellamy, it can't be done, you can't _fake_ true inspiration. It just can't be done."

"Yes, it can," Bellamy murmurs, squeezing her fingers. 

"And how do you know?"

He swallows before looking up to face her. "Because I've done it before. And it worked."

She lets go of him, leaning back in her chair and casting a furtive glance at Lexa, who's talking animatedly with Monty and Jasper. "Who'd you do it do?"

Bellamy doesn't answer. He can't bring himself to tell her the truth.

Raven just sighs, taking his hands again. "Fine, then. I'm down. But if this doesn't work out, it's on you." She looks at Lexa again. "She's an extremely powerful woman. I did some quick research a few minutes ago, and she's the head of Polis International. ARK's got consequences, but she could do worse."

"Just trust me on this one, Raven, please. I want you and Monty and Jasper to go home."

"And what happens to you afterward?" she asks, then shakes her head. "Never mind. We'll worry about it later."

Bellamy silently thanks every god for the existence of Raven Reyes.

"Let's do it," he breathes.

* * *

"Your target is Clarke Griffin," Lexa says. "Studying architecture in Paris."

"Getting a little too close to Interpol headquarters, aren't we?" he asks, crossing his arms. 

"Unfortunately there's no better person for the Inception job," she pushes. "Clarke Griffin is dating Cage Wallace."

"Dante Wallace's son," Bellamy realizes. "What's his girlfriend going to do?"

Lexa sighs softly. "Her whole family's got substantial connections with the Wallaces, but there's talk of Cage inheriting the company. And seeing as her mother is also pretty chummy with Dante, Clarke will be getting the same information as Cage, some way or the other."

"So why can't we just go for Cage?" Bellamy asks.

"He'll be busy, and carefully guarded by Dante Wallace after that little, er, slip-up you guys had. Speaking of which—"

She snaps her fingers, and a few random men grab Dante Wallace's prone form and carry him up and out.

"He hasn't been kicked," Bellamy protests.

"He'll wake up on his own in about thirty minutes," Lexa says with a careless wave of her hand. "I've arranged for transport to Paris for you and Raven Reyes."

"What about Monty and Jasper?"

"I need them to take care of some other business for me," she states. "But regardless of their performance in that task, their permission to go home is dependent entirely on you."

Bellamy swallows before crossing his arms. "An architect and a point woman isn't enough of a team."

Lexa hands him the last of her carefully organized folders before snapping her silver briefcase shut. "I guess you'd better get a team together, then. I hear John Murphy is here in Los Angeles."

* * *

"No. Absolutely fucking not, big man."

"I know you want to, Murph," Bellamy says, tapping the glass of his own drink. "You are the best Forger out there."

Murphy sighs. "Eat my ass, Bellamy."

"No. Please? No one can fake things as well as you do."

Murphy sighs, a long, pained sigh. "What's the mission?"

"We need to find out more about this thing Dante Wallace is up to," Bellamy explains sipping his drink. Murphy leans forward, eyes widening slightly. 

_"The_ Dante Wallace? Why's ARK got you looking into the mind of one of the most powerful CEOs ever?"

Bellamy shrugs. "I don't know. Besides, it's not even ARK. It's an assignment from Polis International."

Murphy chuckles. "Look at you. Pawns in a game of kings and queens. It's not a good idea to get involved in between two big companies."

"Our first assignment technically came from ARK itself, but that didn't go as planned. And they'll put our whole team six feet under for failing. But Lexa Woods can undo that if we do this for her."

"Shit, man," Murphy sighs. He finishes the rest of his drink. "It won't be easy. You'll need time. And a hell of a sedative."

"Which brings me to the other reason I need you," Bellamy says, smiling slightly.

"See, this is the unfair part," Murphy groans. "You've always been good with flattery."

"Don't give me that much credit, I know you wanted in the minute I told you."

"As it happens, I do have a good Chemist for the job. Oh, her sedatives will have you out for centuries. Probably literally," Murphy adds to himself.

"Well, I need her. And you. Do we have a deal?"

Murphy reaches forward and twists Bellamy's ear lightly. "Of course, sweetheart."

Bellamy narrows his eyes. "Really?"

"No guarantee I'll help you all the way," Murphy replies. "But I do want to see some crazy shit."

Bellamy stands, tugging lightly on Murphy's hair, but making him yelp all the same. He crosses his arms and looks sideways towards the exit of the bar. "There's a flight to Paris tomorrow morning at seven." He passes Murphy a card with all the details of the flight. "You and your Chemist need to be at the gate on time."

"Oh, we'll be there," Murphy promises, also getting to his feet and grabbing Bellamy's hand. "You sure about this, though? Last I heard, the idea of Inception was regarded as bullshit among all ARK operatives."

"Inception is real," Bellamy promises, walking away. "I would know."

* * *

"I'm going to kill you," Raven whispers, her hands twitching. "I'll literally murder you."

"It was just a level one rivalry back in our ARK days," Bellamy sighs. "You can't hate the guy forever."

Raven scowls. The warehouse feels empty without Monty and Jasper, who have already left for their mission. "Bellamy, it isn't like you to be this reckless."

"Wouldn't you be? I just want to make sure all of you _go home!"_

She sighs softly. "Right. Sorry."

Bellamy sighs through his nose as he goes to put his hands on her shoulders. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

"Yeah, but you never listen," she murmurs.

_You never listen to me, big brother. You NEVER—_

He draws away, turning away to take a steadying breath without Raven noticing.

"This is going to work," he says. "I promise."

* * *

**paris**

* * *

For a second, he almost mistakes Clarke Griffin to be another beautiful girl in Paris. But her resemblance to the files Lexa had given wins over in his brain, and Bellamy determines her identity before anyone else.

"It's her," Bellamy says, taking another sip of his coffee. He hates coffee—he has no clue why he's even drinking it. 

Raven glances sideways at the woman, her blonde hair tied back as she sketches intently. "She's pretty," Raven mutters.

"I think it's time for some coffee for her," Emori, Murphy's Chemist, sighs. "Excuse me."

She gets to her feet, a dark, swirling tattoo gleaming on her hand. Meanwhile, Murphy sighs, rubbing his eyes. It's impossible for him to sleep on planes. Raven keeps glaring at him, so much so that he raises his head, smirking. "What?"

She shakes her head, blowing a lock of dark hair out of her face. "Nothing."

Murphy glances sideways. "Emori should be back by now."

Bellamy looks up, and to his alarm he catches Clarke Griffin staring directly at him. Her eyes are as blue as the sky, and sharp, too. He hopes he can pass off this moment of eye-contact as a simple alignment of circumstances between strangers, but no, she's getting up and walking over to him. She's not terribly tall, but she still looks more and more imposing the closer she gets, finally stopping at his chair.

 _"Puis-je t'aider?"_ he asks. He finds that women like it a lot when he speaks French, and well, he can't exactly let on that he knows she speaks English. However, she seems to know this about him, leaning forward to whisper in his ear in English. 

"I know who you are," she says. "And if you don't tell me what's going on here, I can make one phone call and have you all dead before you can reach the end of this street."

"Really taking entitlement to a whole different level, aren't you?" he says softly, smiling. She's young, maybe his age. 

She grabs his hand, and Murphy and Raven sit up, gripping the edges of the table. Clarke guides his hand to her own waistband, and for a minute he's speechless. But he soon feels the cool metal of a gun, and raises his head to look at her again. This time, Clarke is wearing a knowing smirk.

"There you go," she says. "Now you know that I'm being serious."

"I—" Bellamy starts, but Raven cuts smoothly across him.

"Well, we can't exactly tell you _here,_ can we?" she says. "Sure, we're here to hurt you. But we've got a solid, confidential reason for it."

Griffin raises her eyebrows. "Top-secret?"

"How about we talk about this somewhere else," Murphy suggests. Behind him, Emori appears, looking sour.

"You really think I'll go anywhere with you guys after you've openly admitted to having a plan to hurt me?"

"Yeah, we do," Raven says, looking at Bellamy, silently begging him to go along with it. "Because there are things that you should know first. About your mother, Dante Wallace, and your boyfriend."

It may be his imagination, but Bellamy thinks he sees Griffin wince a little at the mention of Cage Wallace.

"I have no reason to trust you," she says with a sigh. "But you've got me, and I wanna hear it."

"Really?" Bellamy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she hisses sharply. "But I did just get you to admit to planning something bad. So I'm afraid I'll have to take you in for questioning."

Everyone shoots glares at Bellamy, though it's really Raven's fault. "Questioning," he muses, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Yeah, no. Raven was just messing around."

"I recognize the sigil," Clarke says suddenly, making him immediately look down at the patch at the end of the sleeve of his jacket. A design of curving, overlapping lines, encircled by stars—the ARK patch.

Even as Cage Wallace's girlfriend, she shouldn't have any idea what ARK is—no one should, unless they're a direct part of it. 

"How do you know it?" Raven asks, leaning forward. "What do you know?"

For the first time, Clarke is looking apprehensive. "They've sent you here to kill me, haven't they?"

"And _why_ would they do that?" Murphy asks. 

"Because I know that they exist, obviously. And—"

She pauses, glancing away. Bellamy follows her gaze to a dark-skinned man sitting beside another woman with long, wheat-colored hair, both of them sporting designer sunglasses.

"We're not here to kill you," Emori says softly, in her slightly accented English. "But we do need to know what you know. If we can just find that out, we can walk away without any memory of ever meeting each other."

Clarke looks at those two people again, who are watching her intently. She nods almost imperceptibly, and the two people get up and leave immediately.

"Where are they going?" Bellamy asks.

"Away," she murmurs, stepping back. "Let's go."

Raven looks at Bellamy, her eyebrows knit together. _They could be alerting the Wallaces._

"It's just—my mother can't know I was with you," Clarke blurts. "And neither can my boyfriend. Cage."

Murphy snickers, easily settling back into his state of nonchalance. "He the jealous, possessive type?"

Clarke's eyes darken, and though she doesn't really respond to that question, there's not much left unspoken judging by the way her arms tense. "Let's go," she says again.

"Where, exactly?" Raven inquires, her eyes and tone sharp.

"My art studio is close by. We can talk there."

Simultaneously, Bellamy and Raven stand, and Murphy makes a big show of moving the bill out of his way and stretching before he slinks out of the chair.

"How much did you tip them?" Emori mutters, flicking Murphy's forehead. He rolls his eyes and holds his elbow out to Clarke, who ignores it, instead staring out at the street. They begin to walk towards the end of it, and Bellamy takes a minute to admire the warm beauty of Paris before glancing sideways at Emori, who is clutching a syringe in her hand.

_Now._

* * *

Bellamy had intended to be in the cafe where they found her—instead, he gets lost in the dream, despite the fact that he designed it. He stands in Grecian ruins, staring intently at the floor. A few feet away, a woman with golden hair and blue eyes weeps by the jagged stump of a pillar, wiping her eyes with the silken material of her _chiton._

He finds himself walking towards her, this woman who could either be a goddess or just any normal person. She is familiar, achingly familiar—

* * *

He sits down in the seat opposite her, watching her draw. A necklace rest against her collarbones, a key hanging from the delicate chain. She looks up and frowns.

"You look like someone I know," Clarke says. "Do I know you?"

Bellamy smiles slightly. There is no patch on his jacket. "Not yet."

Clarke smiles back before returning to her sketch.

"What are you drawing?" he asks. 

"Oh, this? My next assignment. I'm studying architecture," Clarke answers. She puts the sketchbook down in between them, and Bellamy sees a city, gilded Greek columns perfectly integrated into modern designs with clean lines and impossible physics. 

"That's beautiful," he says, looking up at her.

"It is, isn't it?" Behind her, the door of the cafe swings open with a phantom wind, and he knows that's where the last piece of the puzzle is.

"You got a boyfriend?" he asks suddenly. Cage. _Say Cage._

Clarke laughs lightly, dazzlingly beautiful. "You don't even know my name, and you're already asking the big questions."

"Maybe I want to," Bellamy says absentmindedly, glancing once again at the open door. "Ask the big questions, I mean."

She puts her chin in her hand. "No. I don't have a boyfriend. Bunch of exes, but no boyfriend at the moment."

Bellamy looks back at her. "Are you a heartbreaker, then?"

She shrugs, picking up her pencil again. "Depends on the owner of the heart."

He smiles softly, before getting to his feet.

"Where are you going?" she asks. There's a touch of disappointment on her face, but she doesn't look too bothered.

"I'll be back," he promises, and unbidden, a memory of him and Octavia watching Terminator pops into his head. No less than five seconds after that thought passes, he catches Octavia sitting at another table, a flower in her hair. She hasn't seen him yet, but Bellamy still has to move faster now. He walks towards the open door, pushing it open.

Instead of a cashier and more tables, there's one single door at the other side of the room, with a shining brass plaque above it that says _Mount Weather._

He glances back at the door. Through the windows of the cafe, he can see Clarke still absorbed in her sketch. Bellamy reaches for the knob of the Mount Weather door, but finds it locked. Thinking back to the key hanging around Clarke's neck, he swears, looking at the knob more closely.

"Why do you want to go in there?"

He whirls around, his gun already up, and pointed at Clarke's face. 

"There are things I have to know," he says steadily. 

"But why you?"

Clarke sighs, and behind her, another door forms, too far away for Bellamy to read the plaque.

"You're the man I saw earlier," she murmurs. "With the stars on his jacket. The symbol of the company known as ARK. Except it's not known. By anyone except me."

"Why do you know them?"

Clarke glances sideways. Through the window, Bellamy notices a man standing near Clarke's table, a man he recognizes from the news and Lexa's files—Cage Wallace. "Who are you?" she asks.

"I'm no one."

She swallows. "He's up to something. Cage. He and his father are doing something awful, and I—"

"What are they doing?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Human experimentation."

Bellamy lowers his gun slightly. "What kind?"

She huffs. "I don't know. That's what I was trying to find out. I—I found out about ARK. What they do. And so I contacted this woman, to see if she could— _extract—_ the information from Cage's brain. But she—she said she couldn't do it. But she knew someone who could. And she told me that they needed me to do it."

He frowns. "Brown hair and green eyes, I'm guessing."

Clarke blanches. "How'd you know?"

"Clarke, it appears we've both been played," Bellamy sighs. 

"And how the fuck do you know my name?"

He pulls a top out of his pocket and sets it spinning on the floor. It spins and spins, never even showing a sign of falling.

"Other than the fact that it's still spinning," Clarke starts. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"It means we're in a dream," he says simply, making her roll her eyes.

"I think I'd know if I was dreaming," Clarke says sharply.

"Yeah, I think so too. Do you remember getting here?"

 _"Yes,_ I followed you into the room—"

"No. _Here._ The cafe."

Clarke scowls. "Of course I do. I—I was—"

She trails off, looking breathless. In the distance, Raindrop Prelude begins to play, getting louder and louder and seeping into Bellamy's ears like honey.

"Where's that music coming from?" she asks.

"That, Clarke, is the wake-up call," Bellamy murmurs, and the cafe tips on his side, sending them both stumbling, the two of them are—

* * *

Falling.

Clarke jerks awake, staring wildly around the warehouse Murphy owns in Paris.

"The top," she says immediately, turning to Bellamy. "How does that work?" 

"The top is what we call a Totem," Raven says, leaning against the table. "It's a way for us to tell whether we're dreaming or not. Like Bellamy's top—if he sets it spinning and it doesn't fall, that means he's in a dream." She pulls out her two black die. "And mine. If I roll this die and they both land on six, that's how I know I'm dreaming."

She looks at Bellamy, who pulls the top out of his pocket to show her. She exhales softly, her body relaxing, and that's when she notices the handcuffs. Her wrists and ankles are bound to the chair that lies toppled over like his own, and she tries desperately to pull herself up. Clarke struggles for a minute before going limp, her eyes narrowed in frustration.

"I'll tell you everything I know about ARK," she huffs. "But I'd prefer to do it sitting upright, _please."_

"Okay, but, if you already had suspicions or even a confession in terms of the human experimentation, wouldn't that have been enough to contact the authorities, or even bring the concerns to your mother?" Bellamy asks, getting out of his chair and pulling hers up.

"Sorry, did you say _human_ experimentation?" Raven interjects, crossing her arms.

"There was no way in hell I could tell my _mother,"_ Clarke scoffs. "She's too close to them. Way too close. And the authorities—well, Dante and Cage trust me only because they think I'm too scared or too devoted to them to tell anyone. It's the only way I even found out about the experiments anyway. And I suppose I could've waited for the details, but they seem to think that they went too far with that one. They had a feeling I might want to know more, so they've had people monitoring me ever since I found out, in case I wanted to break into their lab."

"Do you know where it is?" Murphy asks sharply.

She sighs in defeat. "No. I boarded a plane and I was drugged until I woke up with our plane in a hangar I didn't recognize. I have no idea where it is."

"And how did you find ARK?" Raven continues.

Clarke swallows. "It was—I was going through my mother's contacts."

"Are you wearing any jewelry?" Emori asks suddenly, walking forward.

"No," Clarke says, eyeing the tattoo on her hand with an artist's admiration. She looks back up at her face. "I know what you're thinking. But I'm not being tracked."

"Seems too good to be true to me," Raven mutters. "Check her."

"Or don't," a familiar voice says, and Bellamy turns to face Lexa. "Hi."

He sighs. "This was another test, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't wrong when I said I didn't have any other options, but I still needed to verify your, ah, _credibility."_

She glances at Clarke and smiles. "This was a successful extraction. Which brings me to the next addition to your team."

"Next?" Raven asks in disbelief. "We don't—we don't need anyone else."

"Yes, you do," Lexa pushes, looking Bellamy directly in the eyes. "You need an Architect."

"We have a perfectly good one right here," Raven insists stubbornly.

"Do you really, though?" Lexa walks over to Bellamy. "I suggest you start training Clarke. And tell the rest of the team the truth," she suggests in a tone quiet enough that only the two of them can hear her.

"And how are _you_ even aware of that truth?" he asks in a low voice.

Lexa shrugs. "Lincoln Davis."

Some small, infinitesimal fraction of the weight on his chest disappears. "So he's alright, then?"

"Depends on your interpretation of being _alright,"_ Lexa sighs, looking sad for the first time. "But he's alive, and still going. So I guess he is."

Bellamy nods, and motions for Raven to take off Clarke's restraints. Lexa watches the interaction, gazing intently upon Clarke. "She's got a lot of potential. You won't regret having her on your team."

"Will I regret working with you?" he asks, and Lexa reaches out and touches his arm. He doesn't really like being touched by anyone except Raven and Murphy on a rare occasion, but Lexa's gesture seems so sincere that he just has to accept it. 

"I hope you don't," she says, before making way for the warehouse exit.

* * *

"How do you know if you can trust me?" Clarke asks. Her design of his dream is clean and neatly cut, glass and steel buildings disappearing into the clouds above. 

"I don't," Bellamy says. "There's no such thing as trust in this job."

She nods, a mildly impressed look on her face. "It's a nice city."

"You made it," he tells her, and almost smiles at the shocked look on her face.

"Seriously? This is my dream?"

He shakes his head. "Well, not exactly. It's my dream. But this is just the design you came up with off the top of your head. And for your first time attempting real dream architecture, this is really impressive."

She glances up at the nearest building. "It looks like something I was sketching earlier."

He nods. "Makes sense."

Clarke glances around. "Could I change it?"

Bellamy shrugs. "If you wanted to. You could make it look any way you want."

She knits her eyebrows together in concentration, staring hard at the building. Before his eyes, and soundlessly, the building bends and twists towards another, wrapping together to form something resembling a DNA strand. The passing pedestrians, a few remnants of Clarke's subconscious and the majority of his own, turn to stare almost angrily at them.

"Why are they looking at us?" she asks.

"Those are what we call projections. Pieces of our subconscious. They notice when the dream gets too odd, too far away from the mind's idea of what makes sense. It's the human brain's natural defense mechanism, a system designed to reject abnormality. They're looking at us because buildings like that don't make sense."

"They don't make sense to you," Clarke adds. "It is your dream, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he says. "The more you change it, the more the projections will begin to turn on the dreamers themselves. They may even hurt you."

"Have your projections ever hurt you?" she asks. He almost yells at her to stop asking him these questions, but it's too late—Octavia is already standing at the end of the street, her face tilted up towards the sky.

"Who's that?" Clarke asks softly.

"We need to leave," he says sharply, steering her in the opposite direction. In front of them, a glass elevator rises from the sidewalk.

"I didn't do that," she mutters.

"I did," he breathes.

Clarke turns her head to look at him. "Your secrets are down wherever that elevator goes. You said earlier that minds create a supposed chamber of secrets."

"I can promise that there isn't a big ass snake down there," Bellamy mutters. "But don't be in a rush to find out what it actually is." He glances ominously at her. "Secrets are meant to be unknown."

She scoffs. "It'll be hard for you to keep a secret when I'm literally in your mind."

"A mind that has been trained to hide what it doesn't want to reveal to others," Bellamy says firmly. "Let's go."

He walks on, but Clarke doesn't budge.

"That girl," she says from behind him. "Who was she?"

Bellamy doesn't answer. He hears her huff in frustration as she speedwalks to join him. "Fine. What's inception?"

This, he can answer. "It's the act of taking an idea and planting it in someone else's head, kind of the opposite of extraction. We were going to perform Inception on you, but seeing as you're supposedly on our side, our plan has changed a little."

"So what _will_ we do?"

"We'll have to perform inception on Cage himself. Luckily that will be easier now that you're here," he says, staring hard at her, hoping to catch some sign of conflict or even defiance. but she shows absolutely none. "We're going to give him the idea to confess and expose everything he and his father have been doing."

"Well, why can't we just perform a normal extraction, then?" Clarke asks.

"See, if your mother knows about ARK, I'm guessing they'll know, too. Cage's mind will be heavily guarded. He'll be trained to shut down an extraction immediately, and all of it will be for nothing."

Clarke nods a little before stopping again. He looks back to see her admiring the city, allowing him to think he can walk on. However, when he looks back again to check on her, he sees her getting into the elevator.

Bellamy sprints towards in, barely making it into the tiny glass compartment before the door slides shut. Instead of numbers on the buttons, there are letters, corresponding to his—memories.

At the very bottom, there's a rose gold button engraved with one 'O.'

"Don't," he whispers softly, but it is not enough to keep her from pushing that button.

The elevator shoots downward, making him shake. Clarke is remarkably steady as they hurtle towards oblivion, and after what seems like a thousand years, the doors slide open.

They are in the small apartment Bellamy had lived in as a child—more importantly, his little sister's bedroom.

Clarke ventures out into the neat room before him, keeping her hands to her sides. 

"Big brother," Octavia says, sitting at her desk. "You came back."

"Of course I did," he whispers, walking forward and slowly pushing Clarke so that she stands behind him, shielded from Octavia. "I would always come back to you. I love you."

"But he didn't," Octavia whispers. "I loved him and he never came back. Because you _killed_ him." Clarke exhales sharply behind him.

"He's alive, O," he murmurs, more to himself than her. "Lincoln is _alive."_

"HE'S DEAD!" screams Octavia, looking suddenly deranged as she launches herself to her feet. "YOU PROMISED YOU'D KEEP HIM SAFE BUT YOU KILLED HIM AND HE'S DEAD AND HE IS NEVER COMING BACK!"

She leaps towards Clarke, something gleaming in her left hand. Shoving past Bellamy, Octavia pins her to the floor, holding a knife above her chest. Clarke is trembling, and she glances towards Bellamy, pleading silently with her eyes—

Octavia brings the knife down again and again, and Clarke's blood splatters on his shoes. He's seen people he knows die in dreams a thousand times, but there is something more sinister and disturbing in watching it happen to Clarke. His hands shake so badly that he can barely think, barely pull his gun out of his pocket and put it to his own head, pulling the trigger without an ounce of hesitance.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of screaming. 

"Hey, hey, you're safe," Raven says, running her arms soothingly down Clarke's arms. She shoots Bellamy an accusatory glare. "She died, didn't she?"

Bellamy sighs and nudges Raven out of the way, kneeling before Clarke. Tears are streaming down her face, and her golden curls are messy from her fit. 

"That woman is your sister?" she asks through her tears. Raven and Murphy share a look of concern. 

"Yeah," Bellamy admits, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to touch her shoulder. "I am so sorry—"

Clarke slaps his hand away with surprising strength and a sound halfway between a snarl and a scream. "No! _Fuck you_ and your _fucking_ subconscious!"

She pushes him away and gets to her feet, swaying a little. Once she regains her balance, she walks away from the PASIV. A tense silence settles over the five of them, as they wait, all wondering the same thing.

_Is she going to stay after what she's seen?_

Deliberately avoiding Bellamy's gaze, she turns slowly to the PASIV.

"What's that?" she asks Murphy, pointing at it.

"That's the device that allowed you two to be in the same dream."

Clarke nods, her panic and anger slowly giving way to a clinical, calculating attitude. "If we're going to do this, we need time. A lot of time to pull it off. Like Bellamy told me, Cage's mind will be heavily guarded." She turns to face Bellamy again, taking a deep breath. "He's in Prague right now, scheduled to fly out to Los Angeles. The flight is thirteen hours and fifty-five minutes. Will it be enough?"

Murphy blinks and opens his mouth before closing it again. He clears his throat and chokes out, "What?"

"I _said_ ," says Clarke, "will it be enough time?"

"It will be enough," Emori answers. "It will be more than enough."

"Okay," Raven sighs, looking immensely relieved. "I guess we've got somewhere to be."

* * *

"Clarke will meet up with Cage in Prague, and all of us will board the flight. I'll take care of the flight attendants," Raven says. "We'll sedate him with whatever drink he orders, courtesy of Emori. Thirteen hours in flight time will give us approximately... a week and a half in the dream."

Bellamy glances at Clarke, who is studying her interlaced fingers. "It seems like a good amount of time, but that really comes down to the actual plan," she says. "We have to make him as open to the idea as possible. We need someone close to him to plant the idea."

"Yeah, that's where you come in," Raven says impatiently, but Clarke just shakes her head.

"You don't understand," Clarke sighs. "Cage doesn't trust me. Despite my mother's proposition that I should know about the Wallace business, he's always tried to be as secretive as possible. I'm thinking that it should be his dad."

"And how are you gonna put that idea out?" Murphy asks. "Dante Wallace is the one running the whole thing. It's not going to make sense if he's the one telling Cage to expose all the things they're doing."

"It makes perfect sense," Bellamy says, earning a sharp and curious look from Clarke. "Nothing ever makes sense in a dream, but we've all got some vague idea that whatever we see in our dreams is an echo of our subconscious. Obviously Dante Wallace would be the most persuasive in Cage's mind."

"Yeah, but despite the love they have for each other, it's always been a little complicated with them," Clarke tells them. "Dante's always had ideas, but Cage just wanted them to be bigger ideas. And I guess he's really in need of some emotional catharsis with his dad because he thinks Dante doesn't really know him. Or care about anything he has to say."

Raven sits with her arms and legs crossed, clearly thinking hard. After a moment, she glances sideways at Murphy. "I want you to look at the files I have on Dante Wallace," she instructs him. "And I want you to know him so well that you won't have any problem becoming him in the dream, understand?"

Murphy nods and gets to his feet.

"Clarke," Raven says, turning to her. "Let's have the dream take place in Los Angeles. You've been there, I presume?"

"Grew up there."

"Even better." Raven sighs and gets up, crossing her arms. "From what Bellamy's told me and the research I've done, Inception involves a multilayered dream. You may have to create different dreams within the main dream."

Bellamy watches Clarke's eyebrows knit together as she struggles to process this. Evidently noting her confusion, Raven shakes her head. "But you don't have to worry about that right now. For now, let's just focus on getting you to Cage and getting us all on the same flight."

* * *

Clarke fidgets with the watch on her wrist, staring uncomfortably at the ground.

"You alright?" Bellamy asks softly, reaching out to touch her, but she pushes his hand away. 

"Fine," she says. "Just a little nervous. I've never really actively worked against him, no matter how much I wanted to."

They're seated in first class on the flight to Prague, so he's safe in the fact that at least he'll be comfortable for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Clarke, however, looks like she's a few steps away from some sort of breakdown. He doesn't know the history between her and Cage Wallace, and though he wants to, Bellamy also understands that he's almost a total stranger.

Almost inexplicably, he wishes Lexa were here. She'd at least make this experience more productive. The matter of productivity is evidently not a concern for Raven, who is talking animatedly with Murphy and Emori; the latter takes notes in her small notebook.

"How long have you been doing this?" Clarke asks suddenly.

"What, dream espionage?" Bellamy replies, crossing his legs.

"Yeah."

He thinks about Octavia, which is slightly less dangerous when he's awake. "A long time," he says softly before turning to look out at the clouds that envelop the plane in a cold embrace.

* * *

**prague**

* * *

Prague is bright and clean, with turrets and spires rising from the relatively low skyline. Bellamy wakes from his dreamless sleep to find Clarke yawning (or faking a yawn) as if she'd just woken up as well; however, the dark circles under her eyes alert him to the contrary.

"Where's Cage?" Raven asks Clarke, who is checking her phone every two minutes.

"Charles Bridge," she replies. "It's six in the morning, so not a lot of people will be there." Clarke turns to face all of them, her expression grim. "He's not happy that I'm here. He's already pissed I ditched Miller and Harper in Paris. But I was able to spin some excuse about being away from him for so long..."

She turns away, descending into an uncomfortable silence.

Bellamy clears his throat. "Okay. So we'll be nearby in case something happens."

"In case," Clarke sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Just in case."

* * *

"Excuse me," Bellamy murmurs, accidentally bumping his shoulder lightly into Cage Wallace's arm. He turns around, ready to scowl, but his face softens at the sight of the apparent stranger. 

"You're good," he says. His hands are locked with Clarke's, who shoots Bellamy an unreadable look behind Cage's back. All the flight attendants in the vicinity exchange looks at the sight of the target—all of them hired by Murphy, of course.

He sits down in the seat in front of Bellamy, and Clarke seats herself in the seat across the aisle from Bellamy's. Cage turns around to give her a small, barely-there smile, and Clarke returns it. He notices that neither smile meets their eyes. 

After the plane reaches cruising altitude, a flight attendant walks down the aisle and asks everyone if they want drinks. Cage only gets water, and a minute after the flight attendant goes back, Emori gets up to use the bathroom, though they all know that she's going to mix the sedative in his drink.

Clarke glances sideways at Bellamy, her knuckles white on the armrest. _You're sure about this?_ she seems to ask with her eyes.

He nods, gripping his own seat tightly.

Up ahead, Cage finishes half the glass in one go. In just a few moments, his shoulders relax, and he's fast asleep.

Clarke lets out a breath, and then watches as Murphy walks over and starts setting up the PASIV in front of them. With the wires and the needles, he hooks all of them up to it, and Emori brings the spiked drinks to all of them.

"I'm starting to hate this job," Raven murmurs to herself.

"Me, too," Murphy sighs, taking his own seat. "Bottoms up."

They drink, and then they sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> part two coming soon!!


End file.
